Well, last night was my last opportunity for meat and diet soda for over 40 days, and like a true addict I was guzzling Coke Zero until 9 pm last night. I really miss my Diet Coke during Lent...
In the true spirit of martyrdom, I suited up to get ashes this morning with my 3 year old Henry in tow. Hank is a good boy, and he genuinely likes church, but, well, he's 3. I haven't been taking him to Mass with me on Sundays because it's so excruciating to bring him along.
Hank: "MOMMY. I want to read I Spy."
CL: "Honey, ssshhhhhhhhh. You have to whisper in church."
Hank: "I AM WHISPERING MOMMY. MOMMY, YOU SSSSSHHHHHHH."
Pretty soon, my mood is decidedly not one of Christian charity. He's whining, pulling my hair, and generally being disruptive. Soon, he has to be extracted from the sanctuary. It was just one of those mornings.
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